In Guelph and in poor health

Postcards are generally noted for their sunny views and sunny messages. Messages on postcards are often confined to mundane expressions about good health, such as "we are all fine" and "hope this post card finds you well." However, that is not always the case. Sometimes, postcards convey messages about ill health, from simply feeling poorly to reports of fatalities. It is interesting to look through the messages found on postcards for these unusual but sometimes telling glimpses into how people experienced illness in the Edwardian era. In this posting, I will share a few messages relating to illness from my collection. For the sake of focus and space, I will restrict the messages to physical illness—thus excluding psychological problems like home sickness—and set aside injuries such as work related accidents (where the distinction is clear).

First of all, illness is often mentioned simply in order to explain or excuse people's manner of writing. A simple example would be the following from a postcard postmarked in 1908:

Was ill on Sunday and have been too busy to write since. Am all right now. G.

Sending a postcard saying that you cannot write may sound like an oxymoron. However, in the Edwardian era, it was usually the case that only a full letter counted as "writing". A mere postcard with a line or two did not qualify. Here, the postcard mentions an illness to excuse the fact that "G" has not written when that might have been expected. Nothing serious.

Besides excusing one's own want of letter writing, postcards describing illness could be used to prompt letters from others. I have the sense that such prompting is partly behind the following message addressed to Master L. Frayer of Galt on 11 April 1907:

Apr. 11/09 // My Dear Lauren // Are you ever going to write to me again[?] have been looking for a letter the last few days. If P. comes up on S. tell him to bring me Mrs. (??) have not been so well the last few days but hope to be well soon. Love ??

Postcards were frequently used to scold tardy letter writers, and the mention of illness might be a kind of passive-aggressive measure to help ensure an appropriate response. After all, every sick person wanted letters of sympathy and well-wishes.

Winter was a particularly bad time for the flu. Postcards mailed in January, February, or March that mention illness often relate to the flu. In my collection, the French term "la grippe" is often used to designate the flu, as in this message from a postcard mailed on 26 January 1906:

... These are real spring days surely, but so much La Grippe am afraid to say I’ve escaped so far, but hope it continues. I believe in preventatives and so far it’s alright. I suppose you’re not looking for anything more or have you been in style[?] I believe you were too. Hope your throat is O.K. by now. ... Jean.

In the era before vaccinations, the annual flu was a risk that was hard to avoid, apart from the use of "preventatives", to which we will return.

Some postcards mention chronic conditions, such as asthma. Here is one example, sent to Mrs. Henry Sanders of Detroit on 25 September 1907, which mentions asthma in conjunction with a number of other ailments:

Guelph, Sept. 25, 1911 // Dear Cousin. // A few lines to let you know we are still living. But Richard is layed [sic] up with the asthma. Hope yours are all well. Did you hear Uncle George burried [sic] his youngest son Eddie and his wife is laying very low[;] waiting for her to go off at anytime. She may be dead by now. I have not wrote to your mother yet but will try & soon write to her. Mother is very poorly. How is Bertha do you hear & her baby. good by with love & best wishes from your loving cousin Bertha. I got your card & book all O.K. Write soon.

Some families seemed to get more than their fair share of troubles!

As a chronic condition, asthma could be quite limiting, as noted in this post card sent to Miss E. M. Wade of Smithville, Ontario:

Dear Eleanor :- Maude & Rob went to Toronto fair to-day so I am taking care of the children. we have just been down town for ice cream. we were going to Riverside Park, but it started to sprinkle so we had to come in. Robert is just so wheezy as can be. It is awful to be so susceptible to cold. ...

The term asthma is not used, but it seems to apply to poor, young Robert.

Serious illnesses seem to have been regarded with more resignation than might be the case today. For example, a half-dozen cases of mumps today is a major concern (and properly so). Old postcards reporting incidents of such diseases of childhood seem to treat it rather matter-of-factly. For example, this line was addressed to "Master Herbert Nelson" of Sarnia in 1909:

How is that “measley” boy coming up? Your Old Aunt.

Herbert was about 10 years old at the time and measles would have been a common ailment for a boy that age. Certainly, his aunt seems unfazed at the news.

Infectious diseases became more ominous during the First World War. Large camps full of soldiers in crowded quarters made for an elevated risk of outbreaks. For example, smallpox and diphtheria were on the rise in Ontario (Globe; 8 Jan. 1915) with a serious smallpox outbreak occurring in the Six Nations Reserve in Brantford. As a result, recruits in central and western Ontario were ordered vaccinated against those illnesses (Globe; 20 Jan. 1915). Perhaps this outbreak explains the following postcard message from Agnes Stewart to Miss Annie McCaig of Sarnia (2 Feb. 1915):

My dear Annie, Did you know that I had come here [Guelph General] as resident nurse? Your Aunt & I are good friends and she wishes to thank you for your letter & all the news you gave her. She did not know about the smallpox. She is well & hopes you will write again to her. Kind regards. Agnes Stewart // Glad you all getting well. Take care of yourself.

It sounds like Annie may have had a case, although a minor one.

Undoubtedly, the gravest epidemic of the period was the Spanish flu. Its origin is contested but the concentration of soldiers in Europe and North America helped it to spread rapidly around the globe. It is estimated to have infected 500 million people and killed at least 50 million, making it one of the deadliest disasters in human history. Some 50,000 Canadians are thought to have died of it. The flu continued to circulate well into the 1920s and was known for striking down people who were otherwise quite healthy, often devastating families. One report of the flu in Wellington County is given in a lengthy postcard (in tiny writing) from "Edith" in Erin to her cousin Susan, Mrs. H. H. Harding, of Guelph on 29 March 1920:

Dear Cousin.. Your card received O.K. Glad to hear from you. But sorry to hear you all have been sick with the flu. But oh how thankful you should be that yous [sic] have come through it safely when so many have died lately. There’s a young boy up the lane died this week, and young married women up at Orangeville I used to go to school with died and left 4 little children - the oldest 6 and baby 8 months[.] she was only 23-years old herself. ...

There must have been many more such sad stories related in the postcards of that time.

Some illnesses were more mysterious and seemingly arbitrary. Postcard descriptions convey a sense of helplessness, as in this example addressed to Miss Bessie Reid of Mobeetie Texas on 1 September 1910:

Guelph Sep 1st // Dear Children // John is sitting up today is feeling pretty well but cannot rise his legs yet at all nor his hands hope he will get better of that love from Mama

Here is a similar example, addressed to Mrs. D. C. Parsons of Davenport, Iowa on 19 November 1910:

Saturday, Mother still keeps growing weaker. face enlarging & discharging very rapidly. Little Sadie is not expected to live with Brain Fever. - has had the fever about 3 days. - E. Jaap

The term "brain fever" is a Victorian one that could refer to any number of illnesses, thought to have been brought on by some severe, emotional distress. Brain fever tended to be a life-threatening ailment.

In the face of these various threats to health, Guelphites of the day responded in various ways, including the use of "preventatives", as mentioned earlier. Some of these prophylactics seem to have been folk remedies, as suggested in this message from a card sent to Mrs. J. N. Babson of Cleveland on 14 November 1906:

... The cold is about all gone - took a proper dose of “onion” yesterday fore-noon - concluded my experimental dose had been insufficient. Met E. Crowe - she says K. is better. L.

L. does not say what a "dose of onion" would be but it sounds like a household cure. Onions are still held to have curative powers.

In her book, How to be a Victorian (pp. 270ff), Ruth Goodman notes that people of the era were the objects of a barrage of drug advertising. Such ads promised good health if only the reader would keep a stock of patent medicines on hand, perhaps taking them regularly or, at least, at the first sign of discomfort. Each advertised physic was said to be able to mitigate or cure a wide variety of ailments. For example, consider the text from an ad for Dr. Wood's Norway Pine Syrup that mixes fear, hyperbole, and neuroticism in its appeal to potential customers (Globe, 31 March 1906):

More terrible than war!

More terrible than war, famine, or pestilence is that awful destroyer, that hydra-headed monster, Consumption, that annually sweeps away more of earth's inhabitants than any other single disease known to man.
"It is only a cold, a trifling cough," say the careless, as the irritation upon the delicate mucous membrane causes them to hack away with an irritable tickling of the throat. When the irritation settles on the mucous surface of the throat, a cough is the result. To prevent Bronchitis of Consumption of the Lungs, do not neglect a cough however slight as the irritation spreading throughout the delicate lining of the sensitive air passages soon leads to fatal results. If on the first appearance of a cough or cold you would take a few doses of Dr. Wood's Norway Pine Syrup you would save yourself a great deal of unnecessary suffering. Dr. Wood's Norway Pine Syrup contains all the life-giving properties of the pine trees of Norway, and for Asthma, Croup, Whooping Cough and all Throat and Lung affections it is a specific. Be sure when you ask for Dr. Wood's Norway Pine Syrup to get it. Don't be humbugged into taking something else. Price 25 cents.
Miss Lena Johnston, Toledo, Ont., writes: "I have used Dr. Wood's Norway Pine Syrup for throat troubles after taking numerous other remedies, and I must say that nothing can take the place of it. I would not be without a bottle of it in the house."

Is it a coincidence that "Pine Syrup" is being sold by a man whose name is "Dr. Wood"? The leading tuberculosis researcher of the day, Robert Koch of Germany, had tried and failed to find an effective treatment for tuberculosis ("consumption"), so it seems all the more like that "Dr. Wood" is a pseudonym and his specific a "humbug".

The ad makes broad claims for the power of this specific, without saying much about the nature of the "life-giving properties of the pine trees of Norway." The contents of such specifics, tonics, and the like were not regulated and could contain a variety of powerful drugs (Goodman 2013, p. 282):

Morphine, opium, cocaine, laudanum, heroin, chloroform, ether, aspirin and cannabis were all purchasable, without any form of medical supervision, and for a very few pence.

As a result, Goodman observes, addiction to these medicines was all too common. Although people sometimes fell ill and even died from these addictions, addiction was not recorded as a cause of death at the time. Thus, anyone, even children, reported to have "wasted away", "died in his sleep" or perished from a "brain fever" may have suffered from a drug overdose.

Scepticism about these tonics had prompted some official investigation. Specifically, governments of the era were concerned with "adulteration", that is, the inclusion of fraudulent ingredients in drugs (or foods). For example, a preliminary investigation by the US Inland Revenue Department found that many over-the-counter drugs contained very little active ingredient and a great deal of alcohol, up to 40% (Globe, 28 Feb. 1906):

These preparations contain so small an amount, if any, of effective drugs or medicines, and so large an amount of alcohol as to make their use as intoxicants not uncommon.

Being so potent, the medicines would have an obvious and immediate impact and at least give the taker the impression that they were taking some effective action to treat themselves. With so much alcohol in common medicines, the Inland Revenue investigators suggested that druggists should require a liquor license to sell them.

Illnesses that did not simply go away or yield to the confections of druggists might result in a visit to the doctor. Once prohibitively expensive for most, visits to a doctor had become more affordable for the Edwardian middle class in Guelph. In that light, there were times when a doctor's attention was definitely what was required, as in the case mentioned in this postcard by "Fred", which was never addressed or sent:

The Dr. lanced my face four or five days ago. it was as big as a tea cup. I think it must be from the poison ivy. I was some sick. all kinds of pain and sick feeling and weak. I could hardly walk. I hope I will be able to come in the Freight. It will be some experience. Coming with the cattle. we might only bring the sixteen cattle we have already bought. I haven’t shaved for a week. I will have some whiskers when I come home. Eddie has had a bad cold. We got lots of warm clothes for him before he starts. Fred

I imagine that Fred's face must have hurt for a while after that experience!

Of course, some ailments demanded a trip to one of Guelph's hospitals. Hospitals and nursing facilities were a point of pride in the Royal City, and were depicted frequently in postcards of the Edwardian era. Many postcard messages also speak of stays in hospital. With some good fortune, the hospital was a place where sick people could recuperate from their illnesses, as mentioned in this postcard to Mrs. H. C. Schumm of Baden, Ontario on 18 June 1912:

G. General Hospital // Dear Alice // I have been perched up on pillows to-day but am down flat again. Come to see me soon as you can. this is my first writing. I am tired so good bye. With love, Luella

Another postcard dated 23 June notes that Luella had left the hospital for Hespeler, so I assume that she had recovered by that time.

Luella gives the General Hospital as her address. Also, the card depicts the hospital itself, as shown below.

The card was published around 1910 by the Illustrated Post Card Co., Montreal. It was evidently taken in the spring before the foliage could completely obscure the building. It may be that the hospital kept a stock of such cards on hand for the use of patients and assisted in getting them into the mail.

The old General Hospital was located roughly where the Medical Health Centre on 75 Delhi St. currently sits (just down the road from the current hospital), which you can see in the Google Street View image below.

The hospital is where operations for various ailments might be performed, as mentioned in this postcard from Lena Martin to Miss Martha Polzen of Berlin (now Kitchener) on 13 June 1910:

Guelph. June 12th/10 // Thought I would let you know that Katie is at the General Hospital at Guelph from an operation for appendiscitis [sic] a week ago. is doing nicely but may have to undergone [sic] another operation soon for internial [sic] trouble. With love, Lena Martin per Katie Bachert

Wasn't it nice of Katie to write this postcard on Lena's behalf? The operation was probably performed in the east wing (right in the postcard), named the Victoria Jubilee Wing after the Queen's Jubilee when its construction began in 1887 (Golden Jubilee: School for Nurses, 1938). That wing contained the first proper operating theatre in the hospital. Happily for Katie, the appendectomy operation had been well advanced by 1910. Before about 1885, most sufferers of appendicitis were expected to die of infection.

Of course, not all operations were expected to succeed, as reported matter-of-factly in this postcard by Susie sent to Mrs. Noah Sunley of Chilliwack on 16 August 1912:

Thur evening Aug 16th // Dear Mother:— I hope you are enjoying yourself. We are all well at present. We throw in with the haying and started harvest. G. Swan went through a very serious operation Tues. Very little hopes for him. We will write a letter in a few days. Dont’ forget to write again as we do enjoy your letters. hoping all is well. Bye Bye. Your daughter, Susie.

With a few exceptions, surgery remained the treatment of last resort for those who were unwell in Guelph.

The messages conveyed in postcards tend to be brief and quotidian. Mentions of health are often confined to "we are well" and "hope you are fine." For such reasons, postcard messages are often overlooked in favour of their pictures. Yet, postcard messages can serve to illustrate the life experiences of their writers, and postcards on the experience of illness seem to bear this out. In messages like the ones above, we get a glimpse through a proverbial keyhole of what it meant when you were not well in the Royal City of about 100 years ago.

The Nurses' Home

Conflict erupted recently in the City over a plan by Vesterra Property Management to renovate the former Family and Children's Services building at 55 Delhi St. Local residents were happy with the plan to turn the structure into 12 condominium units. However, they were displeased with the developer's plan to put parking on the front lawn. As the Streetview image below shows, the front of the building is the site of a number of shrubs and mature trees, which the neighbours prefer to pavement.


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A look at the building might also suggest that it is an older building which, indeed, it is. It was built in 1910 when it was widely known as the "Nurses' Home", that is, a residence for nurses working at Guelph General Hospital just up Delhi St. In fact, the building is in Guelph’s Municipal Register of Cultural Heritage Properties as a non-registered structure. There, it is described as follows:

Georgian Revival, 2 storey + attic + basement, 7 bay, gable roofs, projecting end pavilions with pediments and half-moon windows, projecting light Tuscan columned entrance porch with balcony above, tooled stone lyg sills, wide splayed flat arches with ornamental keystone, quoins formed by recessed course at corners, plinth, console brackets to eaves and verges, entrance doorcase with sidelights, fanlight and arch with projecting denticulated head band, ornamental carved and triangular pedimented dormers, sash 6/1, 2 storey orioles at ends.

Some of these features, such as the gable roofs, half-moon windows, and quoins are visible in the image above, but foliage hides the rest.

To get a better view, you can look at this postcard published by Valentine & Sons Publishing Co., from a picture taken probably not long after its construction.

At this point, only a couple of little saplings stand between the building and street. So, it is easier to see the Tuscan columned entrance, the carved and pedimented dormers, and even the oriole windows at the near end. It is quite a dignified, even imposing structure. The Dictionary of Architects of Canada credits the design to Stewart McPhie, who had a had an office in Guelph with W. A. Mahoney. It hints that Mahoney may have had more to do with commissions in Guelph, so perhaps the credit should go to him. The Guelph Mercury notes that the "stone and brick contractors" were a local pair, Johnston and Williams (16 May 1910).

The Nurses' Home had a 10-year gestation. As noted in the Mercury of 21 June 1906, the idea and money for a residence originated with a bequest of $5000 by Mrs. Isabella Forsyth. Mrs. Forsyth was the widow of Mr. James Forsyth, who was foreman of the Ontario Agriculture College's Horticulture Department from 1880 through 1893. He died in 1899, and Isabella shortly thereafter on 19 January 1900.

Intriguingly, a copy of Mrs. Forsyth's will lies in the Archives at the University of Guelph. The Forsyths were well connected, as Mrs. Forsyth has some very upstanding Guelphites as executors including Alexander Petrie, who has been discussed in a previous post in connection with the Petrie Building. The first bequest in her will is the $5000 for the Nurses' Home:

To the Trustees of the Guelph General Hospital (out of my personal property) the sum of five thousand dollars with which they are to erect upon the Hospital grounds convenient to the said Hospital a residence for the said Hospital nurses and to be known as the Forsyth and Hepburn Cottage...

This paragraph poses some riddles. Why would Mrs. Forsyth endow a residence for nurses, and why would she want it to be called the "Forsyth and Hepburn" Cottage? The second question is easily answered, as the will identifies several relatives on her side of the family as Hepburns. So, that was her maiden name. As for the first question, the will leaves moneys to relatives and institutions in Elgin County, including a bequest of $3000 for a nurses' residence in St. Thomas. It may well be, as historical notes left with the will suggest, that Isabella trained as a nurse in St. Thomas before moving to Guelph. Perhaps she even served on the Hospital board, although that is just a speculation. In any event, she apparently took a keen interest in the welfare of nurses.

Why, then, did it take ten years for the home to be built? That is difficult to answer, but one reason might be that there was already a nurses' residence on the grounds of the hospital. The Dictionary of the Architects of Canada credits Stewart McPhie with the Nurses' Residence for the Guelph General Hospital in 1900, prior to the structure of 1910. A Mercury article of 20 Oct. 1910 describes the previous residence as temporary and inadequate, having accommodation for 12 nurses of a staff of about 30. Despite its deficiencies, the existence of a residence may have lessened the urgency the Hospital Board felt about creating a new one.

In any event, the Hospital Board bought a property on Delhi Street for the new residence from a Mr. Winstone in 1906. By this time, the bequest had increased from $5000 to $7000 due to sound investment. The author of the article in the Mercury (21 June 1906) considered the property "ideal" because it already contained a spacious residence belonging to Mr. Winstone. The property also had a shed suitable for the Hospital's bovine employees:

On the adjoining lot is a comparatively new stable, which will provide accommodation for some of the hospital cows.

The implication is that the Board was considering modifying the Winstone residence to serve as the Forsyth and Hepburn Cottage.

For reasons unknown, this plan did not work and the Board elected to build a new structure on the property. The Winstone home and cowshed met an unknown fate. The old nurses' residence was bought by Johnston and Williams—the "brick and stone" contractors for the new residence—and was moved by them to a new location around the corner on the east side of Derry St. (Mercury; 16 May 1910). I wonder if it is still there.

The cost of the new structure was about $18,000 (Mercury; 10 Sept. 1910). As this amount is much higher than $7000 or so available, the city's Young Men's Association put on a campaign to raise the extra amount. An article in the Mercury (22 Sept. 1910) notes the advantages of the new residence for the nurses, as well as the hospital, and suggests the propriety of the campaign:

The young ladies who are devoting their lives to then nobler cause of nursing, after being engaged several hours in sick rooms, night or day, require a brighter dining room than they have hitherto been furnished with, and it is singularly appropriate that the young men of the city should take upon themselves the work of defraying the cost of bettering their surroundings in all respects.

So far as I know, the campaign was successful and the contractors and architects paid in full for their efforts. At last, after a decade, the nurses had a decent place to stay during their training at the Hospital.

In due course, the new residence was immortalized as a postcard. This particular card was mailed from Leamington with the following message:

Jan. 27/15 // Dear friend :- Sorry to hear you are sick. Called your people last night. We are going to have a cake and tea social at Stillman to-night. Hope you are improving. J.

The addressee was "Miss Rosa Devereux, c/o Miss Simpson, Grace Hospital. Detroit, Mich." Considering that the recipient seems to have been a patient in Grace Hospital, perhaps the selection of a postcard featuring a Nurses' Home was a way of suggesting care and concern.

As for the Nurses' Home today, it seems that its front yard may avoid being paved. Vesterra and the neighbours have hit on a plan whereby the condo residents may be able to park in a lot at 65 Delhi St., property that the city owns and is looking to sell. In honour of this close call, I suggest that the developer throw in a little plaque finally naming Mrs. Forsyth as the lady who launched this residence with her bequest over 100 years ago.